


Let Him Go

by Marrilyn



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Female Friendship, Friendship, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Illusions, Imagination, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Past Character Death, Potions, Promises, Romance, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Goodbyes are hard. Grief is even harder. How do you let go of the one you love the most? Alternate ending to 5x11.





	1. Hope

_Nothing left to make me feel anymore_  
_There's only you and every day I need more_  
_~ Anything For You by Evanescence_

* * *

She walked in like she owned the place. Not that she gave a damn about the grumpy stare its owner had given her or the fact that she was the last person he'd wanted to see at the moment.

Tough luck on his part.

"I believe the sign said _closed,_ Miss Swan," Gold said in his nonchalant tone of voice, devoid of its usual mockery, though the smugness and attitude were still there.

He might not be the Dark One anymore, but not a lot had changed regarding his personality.

"I need your help," Emma said, her own tone revealing that was not just a simple request. Her _need_ meant _want,_ and that meant right here and now, whether he agreed with whatever it was that she wanted or not.

"Is that so?" Gold snarked. Of course she needed something. Why else would anyone dare cross the doorstep of his humble little shop? People rarely stopped by to buy anything anymore. If he had guests, they were there to either blame him for something, or make demands with no intention of paying for the desired help.

It was times like these that he wished he was still a Dark One.

"I need to see _him,"_ Emma said. Her voice trembled at the world _him,_ almost bringing back that river of tears she'd tried her hardest to hold back, to suppress it at least while she was in public.

No one needed to see her grief, her sorrow, her suffering.

No one needed to witness her worst.

Especially not Gold.

She needed no pity; no blank stares, or saddened looks, or voices silent for its owners were at loss as to what to say.

The only thing she needed was closure. And she was going to get it one way or another, whether the former Dark One before her had agreed to help her or not.

"Dead is dead," Gold reminded her.

His old self would have taken pride in such a statement, perhaps even let a mocking chuckle escape his wicked lips.

This one had, however, simply offered a short explanation he'd given to many before her.

Though, those people he'd taunted and attempted to trick. On the other hand, Emma, whom he'd found herself growing closer to prior to her becoming what he once was due to the child she'd shared with his son, was, dared he say it, family. Incredibly distant and strained, but family nonetheless. He couldn't find it in his newly restored pure, heroic heart to take pleasure in her grief.

"Magic can't bring back the ones that are lost."

"I _know_ that," Emma said, perhaps a bit too harshly, but she didn't care. She had a facade to maintain; a face to keep firm and strict, and a voice to stop from breaking.

She didn't need Gold to point out things she already knew. She was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She was aware that magic could do a lot of things; she was, after all, one of the few lucky ones gifted with it. But there were miracles even such a powerful force could not perform.

Right now she didn't want a miracle. All she wanted was a small, tiny lie. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a little lie to keep her sanity for she was on her way to lose it all over again.

"Then what is it that you desire, dearie?" Gold inquired.

"I want a potion," she said. "A spell. Anything. I just want to see _him_ again."

"I'm not a Dark One anymore," he reminded, and he'd be damned if he wasn't cocky about it. The darkness might have made him into something he wasn't, but it was still a part of him for centuries. That is not something that just goes away.

The taste of it would always be within him, eating him up inside, making him miss the power, the control, the dominance he'd once had. Making him miss the fear a simple glare of his could inflict upon souls unfortunate enough to meet it.

He may be a hero now, but even those of purest of hearts have a little bit of dark in them.

"Perhaps," Emma said. "But you still own a magical shop. There must be something in here that can help me."

 _Can._ Not _could._ Because she was certain this man had what she wanted, no, what she _needed,_ and he was going to give it to her, willingly or not.

For his wellbeing, she hoped it was the former. She'd made great progress. It would be a shame if her newly restored light magic was to take a shade of dark once again.

"I do," Gold confirmed with a slight nod. "However," he raised his forefinger as if to prove a point, "what you conjure will not be him, dearie. Just you." He brought his finger to his temple, casually tapping it. "A fragment of your imagination."

"I don't care," Emma said coldly, her voice dripping with venom that was clearly a threat. She wanted _that,_ whatever he'd had, and she wanted it now. And he better give it to her without stalling.

Even an illusion would be better than nothing. Better than living her life without the one who made her feel most alive; the one who taught her to enjoy life, to allow herself to experience true, pure bliss. The one she'd planned a future with; a bright future full of joy and life, of nothing but happiness.

He'd promised her no pain. No suffering. No abandonment. Just love and understanding. And that was all he'd given her since day one.

It may have been short, but it was worth it. Every day she'd spent with him was worth all the hurt, all the pain. Worth everything bad that had been eating her alive ever since he'd gone away for good.

If only it had been forever, like they'd planned.

However, good things always have to come to an end. That was one of fate's cruelest unwritten rules. She would know; loss was no foreign term for her. She'd experienced it a lot.

And it always fucking hurt all over again, like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Why had she been so foolish to listen to him and take it all away, when it was her who should have had her heart pierced by the cursed sword? Why had she indulged that one request that came with the highest of prices?

Had it been her, he would have suffered, yes. But he'd lived for hundreds of years. He would have found a way to live again, to breathe again, to love again. He would have been alive and – maybe not right away, but eventually – happy.

At least that's what she'd been telling herself since the moment her hand forced the sword through his chest, shattering all their dreams, turning them into nothing but empty wishes.

Some would consider those thoughts selfish.

Some would call them selfless.

She thought of them as just dreams and wishes never to come alive.

Just like _him._

Because, as Gold and many others before him had said, dead is dead. Not even magic can reverse the lost force of life.

But what it _could_ do was create illusions. Just a little false hope, a little bit of lies and fantasies. That was all she needed at the moment. To say one last "I love you", utter a proper goodbye, say a few loving words. To thank him for the memories.

Or get herself lost in what she should have been having had life gone differently, had fate not been so cruel as to take all the happiness she'd rebuilt after last time away again.

As if one time wasn't enough.

"I need to see _him_ again," she repeated, her voice bearing more power, more authority than before.

That was an order, the man before her realized. And Rumplestiltskin didn't take kindly to orders, considering he was usually the one spouting them out like curses he'd once been so fond of.

This one, however, he was willing to indulge. Such desperation, he thought, to have to lose a part of your mind in order to not lose its entirety. To have to indorse a lie to regain the little sanity there was left in that pretty little head of hers. Not even he, back in those cowardly days he'd rather leave in the past where they belonged, would have sunk that low.

The man almost chuckled. There was no point in attempting to trick the Savior into making a deal. Not that he'd had the power to enforce it, anyway, even if he'd tried. Emma might not have been the Dark One anymore, but she still had the gift of magic and, by the stern look on her face and the venom in her voice, he'd known better than to try and play her.

"Very well," Gold relented.

He walked over to the back of his shop, his steps slow, cautious, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts. Her eyes never left his back, a silent threat to not attempt to cross her, not attempt to play one of his games, for she both could and would have his head at the slightest provocation.

The man was quick to return with a small vial in his hand, an item barely an inch bigger than a test tube, filled with liquid of the dark color of purple, almost sparkling under the dim light the small shop provided.

"Here you go, dearie."

He stretched his arm out to her and Emma snatched the vial with a swift, almost inhuman move. Clasping it with both of her hands, she brought it to her chest, holding onto it as if it were a small child, gently, yet protectively, her eyes firmly locked with his as if warning him away from the potion.

The potion that had been her temporary salvation.

"One drop of this and _poof!"_ Gold said, ignoring the woman's glare, his hands making a theatrical gesture, one he'd been known for back in his days as the Dark One. "Your pirate is back."

"For how long?" Emma inquired.

"An hour," the former Dark One replied. "That is, if you follow the instructions."

She turned on her heel, heading for the door without a simple thank you. Such rudeness, he thought. But it was understandable. If he was to lose Belle the way she'd lost her dearest pirate…

He may not have been the Captain's biggest fan, but he understood the Savior. Heavens know he'd had his own share of losses, one more painful than the other. He couldn't blame the woman for wanting the one she loved back, even as just an illusion.

"Have in mind, dearie," he said just as she was about to walk out. She stopped dead in her tracks, not bothering to spare him a glance. "That is the last potion of the kind. Make it last."

Giving a slight, barely noticeable nod, Emma slammed the door to the shop and headed for the one place she knew she'd be alone, the one place where no one would bother her and question her actions.

She couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto her lips. She would see _him_ again, and soon. Maybe not the real him, but him nonetheless. He would be there, before her in all his pirate glory, as if he'd never left her side.

And she would, after days of pure agony, finally be at peace again.


	2. Him

_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_   
_But though you're still with me_   
_I've been alone all along_   
_~ My Immortal by Evanescence_

* * *

Emma eyed the potion in her hands warily, carefully swinging the tiny vial back and forth, observing the thick, fluid liquid trembling in its glass container.

She was seated cross-legged on the cold, grassy ground in the middle of the dense forest, away from prying eyes and concerned minds that would have surely attempted to stop her had they known what she'd been up to.

Just one time, she told herself. One illusion and she would throw the potion away. She needed to see him just once, to tell him exactly how much she loved and missed him, to let him know she hadn't forgotten about him, about all the good times they'd shared that would forever be seared into her memory.

To tell him she'd kept the house that was to be theirs. And that she missed him every single day, wishing he'd been there with her to share the home that had felt so lonely without him in it.

He just needed to hear it once.

Carefully, Emma brought the vial to her mouth, allowing a small drop to stain her tongue, just as instructed by the former Dark One. The liquid tasted sweet, with small, barely noticeable traces of sourness mixed into its thick compound.

She closed her eyes as she swallowed, her thoughts wandering to him, all of their moments replaying before her eyes like a sad documentary.

 _Please, come back,_ she wished, hoping her desires would trigger the potion, make the illusion more real, more lifelike. _I need you._

A few moments had passed in deafening silence, not even a bird or an insect to be heard, and Emma opened her eyes to take a curious glance around. Where was he? He should have been here by now. He should have been calling her _love,_ shouting out _bloody hells,_ and been his insufferable self that she'd fallen in love with.

Gold hadn't tricked her, had he? Had the old bastard really been so stupid as to trick a sorceress with magic greater than his own, for now he had none and was no match for her in the state of great, vengeful anger?

Surely, he wouldn't dare do such a thing.

Just as she was about to curse Gold and his trickery out loud, a familiar voice she never thought she'd hear again said: "You called, love?"

She turned around and for a moment, for just a small, fragile little moment, her throat tightened as her heart started to beat like crazy, as if close to exploding out of her chest.

Emma slowly stood up, her legs wobbly and unstable, barely strong enough to support her weight.

"Killian."

His name fell easily from her lips, its taste sweet, a mixture of all things nice and pretty that reminded her of him.

"One and only," he said, raising a cocky eyebrow.

He was exactly as she'd remembered him; tall and handsome, clad in leather from head to toe, that signature eyeliner circling his dangerously gorgeous yet romantic eyes, making the beautiful, lovely blue in them stand out like a droplet of light amidst the darkness.

"You came!" Emma exclaimed, unable to hide the joy from her still trembling voice.

Tears of joy rushed to her eyes, sliding down her burning cheeks like a salty waterfall. Opening her arms wide and welcome, she sprinted over to him, ready to envelop him in the tightest of hugs. Her lips had already prepared to meet his once again, her fingers ready to entwine with his own long, slender ones, her aching skin burning with desire to feel his against her own.

Only, instead of her body crashing into his as she'd hoped, she passed right through him.

Right through a ghost that he truly was.

And the world she'd so desperately wished to recreate for just one blissful moment came crashing down in a heartbeat, shattering into ruins of what was lost and could never be found, not even in the form of a lie.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her voice strained, distant. She turned back to him, observing his beautiful features, his almost regal composure, his smile that was as seductive and adorable as ever.

"I'm not real, love," he said, that accent of his she'd grown to adore bearing hints of sadness. "You know that."

Emma swallowed, hard. Of course she knew, but still, she'd hoped it would be real for only a moment.

To touch him.

To hold him.

To kiss him.

To have him in her arms.

"But Gold said…"

"That I would be back," Killian finished for her. She could tell it was as hard for him as it was for her. It was only natural, she thought with a bitter, silent laugh. He _was_ her. "Not that I would be real."

"But you have to be!" she screamed, pleading at him, begging him to say that this was all just a joke and that he would make himself tangible, allow her to feel the touch of his hand just one final time.

His glance softened, unshed tears glistening in those gorgeous eyes that always made her mad with desire. "You and I both know that's not possible."

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked.

It took all her willpower not to fall to her knees and shatter into thousands of pieces. How pathetic must she be, to plead and beg an illusion she'd conjured up herself, the part of her mind she'd made come alive and pretend to be the man she loved.

The man she'd lost forever.

"Move on," Killian said, taking a slow, cautious step closer toward her, his hand reaching for hers, stopping only an inch away for their hands would never meet, no matter how hard she desired it.

"I can't do that," she confessed. She dared her hand to rise, tearing up as it went right through his, like he was just a fantasy, a fragment of her imagination.

Which he was, she reminded herself. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, this wasn't Killian.

This was only a part of her mind pretending to be him.

"I love you so much," she sobbed, all her dams broken, letting emotions out like raged rivers.

"I know, darling," he soothed like a father would a frightened child. "And I know it hurts. But this isn't healthy. Grief is natural, Emma. It hurts now, but with time it will get better. You will find someone, and you will be happy, and all of this will be just a bad memory."

"I don't want anyone else!" Emma exclaimed, outraged that he would even suggest such a thing. "I want _you!"_

"You can't have me," he told her. His expression darkened, the tone of his voice somewhat stricter, rougher as he continued with his little speech. "It's killing you, and you want to live this lie because talking to an illusion is easier than getting over your grief like a normal person!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing him suspiciously, the hurt obvious in her fragile glance. "Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded.

There she was, stooping so low as to argue with herself. An illusion taking on the form of her beloved, but still, that was herself that was challenging her, herself that she was shouting at.

"You're doing it to yourself! Have you forgotten? I am _not_ Killian Jones," he pointed out the obvious truth, one she hadn't had the courage to admit out loud for it hurt too much to even think about it. "I'm just a fragment of your mind; grief you can't get yourself to let go of!"

She scoffed in disdain. First she let the darkness get its clutches on him. She'd had his best intentions in mind, but still, it was her who'd turned him into the thing he'd hated the most, the thing that had turned him against her when she needed him most.

Then she'd killed him, emotionally ruining herself in the process, destroying all their hopes and dreams of a better future, a promise of love that would now never come true.

And now she couldn't even conjure a hallucination right.

Why couldn't this fake Killian be nice and comforting, like she'd wished for him to be? Why couldn't he be _him,_ the kind, gentle man she'd fallen in love with? Why couldn't he be nice and make promises – empty promises, but promises nonetheless – that one day they will be happy together, just the two of them?

"I can't talk to you when you're being like this!" Emma said, her own voice betraying her, breaking apart as soon as the last syllable left her lips.

"That's so _you,_ Emma!" Killian said. "You always run instead of facing your problems!"

"I didn't run from you!" she snapped.

She'd been there for him the entire time, just as he'd been there for her. She even went as far as going against his wishes, just to keep him by her side, to never let him go for she'd already lost too much.

She was willing to let him hate her for it, but at least he would be here, alive and well. A Dark One, but among the living.

It may had been a selfish act, but it was done out of nothing but love.

They say true love triumphs all. Why couldn't theirs, she thought bitterly, last for a little bit longer? Her parents' one was strong enough to surpass every obstacle that came in its way. Regina had found Robin, her long ago promised happy ending. Even Belle and Rumple were working on mending what was broken.

Why couldn't Killian and Emma had had the same luck? What made their love worth less than all the others'?

Seeing the pain on her face, Killian's face softened back to the one she'd been fond of. The one she'd missed with all her heart. "This time you have to. You have to let me go."

"I can't," she sobbed, her entire self a wreck. "I need you in my life. I can't live without you."

"You can, and you will."

She shook her head wildly, refusing to give in to his words.

Lies. All of them. How could he expect her to give him up just like that, without a protest or fight?

How could the part of her mind that had formed the image of him expect her to just let all of it go into oblivion?

How could she, albeit subconsciously, even think of such a thing?

"I'm not ready," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

She would never be ready for a move like that.

Losing him had nearly destroyed her.

Forgetting him would surely kill her.

"How am I supposed to let you go?"

"You just are," was his simple reply, that devil of a smirk finding its way back onto his lips. "Believe in yourself, love. Like I believed in you."

"I–" before she got to finish her sentence, his body had started to fade, blending in with the surroundings. It grew paler, its form more of that of a ghost than an almost lifelike hallucination.

In a matter of seconds, he was gone for good.

Again.

Her one hour was up, Emma realized. It had passed before she'd even had a chance to say all the words and phrases she'd been aching to share with him, all the things she felt he needed to know.

Before she had a chance to say the goodbye they'd both deserved.

Oh, well.

It was just a one-time thing, anyway.


	3. Memories

_You see him as you fall asleep_   
_Never to touch, never to keep_   
_'Cause you loved him too much, but you dived too deep_   
_And you only need the light when it's burning low_   
_You only need the sun when it starts to snow_   
_You only know you love him when you let him go_   
_~ Let Him Go by Birdy_

* * *

One time had turned into two.

Then five.

Then seven.

Eventually Emma had lost count of how many times she'd gone to the depths of the forest to visit a ghost that wasn't even real, but a fragment of her mind that had been too engulfed in grief to let it all go.

Not that she minded all that much. She was in no position to choose.

Every time she'd gone out, she'd make up a lousy excuse for her unsuspecting family members. They'd bought into it every single time, thinking she just needed space to herself, some peace and quiet to let all the bad and painful in her soul settle down before allowing the good and happy back in.

They weren't that far from the truth. However, Emma doubted they would approve of what she had actually been doing.

Often times, Regina would give her a suspicious glance or two, but that was all that was. Just a glance. A look of pity, the very same one everyone had been giving her ever since they'd witnessed her breakdown as her beloved collapsed in her arms and allowed death to take him.

The former Evil Queen had known nothing of Emma's secret life.

She had, however, noticed the Savior's strange behavior.

Before, they, along with their son, had agreed that Henry would spend time with the both of them equally. Now the boy practically moved back in with his adoptive mother, often giving Emma calls and sending her texts to let her know about his days, school, and everything else she'd detached herself from after suffering another loss.

He was better off without her, anyway. She couldn't care for a teenage boy in this state of mind. Hearing from him from time to time was enough for her; she didn't have to keep on that strong and obviously forced facade around him, and he didn't have to hear his mother cry every single night behind locked doors to her room, curled into a fetal position with her back pressed against the wall as she wept for her lost love.

It was a win-win situation for the both of them.

"I didn't cry today," Emma said proudly with a smile on her face; a real, true smile, as opposed to all the fake ones she'd been pulling up to fool people.

She didn't have to pretend anymore. Not around _him._

"I knew you could do it, love," Killian told her, flashing her a smile of his own.

"Dad tried to make cookies today," she continued.

She was seated on the grass, leaning against a tall tree for comfort. The pirate sat right next to her, their hands casually laid on the ground, so close together they could almost touch.

Only, to both of their chagrins, that wasn't possible.

So they settled for closeness instead.

"Let me guess – it didn't go so well."

Emma let out a chuckle. "He made such a mess," she said, remembering the sight that welcomed her this very morning when she'd come to visit her parents for a family breakfast they'd scheduled. Flour everywhere; covering the walls and furniture, spread across the floor along with several broken eggs and ruined dough.

It sure was a sight for sad eyes.

Without even knowing it, David had made her day. What better way to start a day, than with a laugh?

Her mother, though, hadn't shared her sense of humor.

"That's David for you," Killian laughed.

Emma nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

Silence befell them for a few uncomfortable moments as her mind had tried to come up with subjects to bring up, to discuss and laugh about. She'd only had an hour with Killian; she didn't want to waste it just sitting in silence and watching the same boring nature they'd been surrounded by everyday, ever since she'd started conjuring him.

She'd already told him about Henry's recent success at school. About Robin's adorable baby, and his general awkwardness around it. About Regina and Henry's new, stronger relationship that she had been so proud of.

And to think that once upon a time, it was Emma who had tried to sever it.

The Savior was happy for her son and the former Evil Queen.

Everybody had that special someone they loved and cherished, that someone they needed and that needed them just as much.

Snow and Charming had each other.

Robin and Regina had both each other and their children.

Henry had the huge family he'd always wanted.

Gold had Belle.

And Emma had Killian.

Or the ghost of him.

In the end, it was that very same ghost who broke the suffocating silence. "Cat got your tongue, love?"

"I have nothing to say," she admitted.

He frowned jokingly. "That can't be true."

"What about you?" Emma inquired, daring herself to utter those very words. She knew what the answer would be; she dreaded it, feared it, already felt the stinging in her heart for she knew what the answer to that question would be, and still, she had to ask. To maintain the illusion that this, all of this, was real. That _he_ was real. "Why don't you say something?"

"You know I can't do that, love," the pirate replied honestly, the grief that had been hiding within her, eating at her heart and soul, and poisoning her mind with lies spreading over his gorgeous features. Showing her just how dead she truly was inside. "I'm not real."

Emma swallowed a hard lump in her throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. Tears she'd sworn to herself would not be shed anytime soon.

Why did he always have to remind her of that?

Couldn't he just be a normal ghost?

Couldn't he just be _him?_

A bitter chuckle almost escaped her lips. Of course he couldn't. He was just a part of her, no matter how hard she wanted for him to be something _and_ someone more.

"Can you at least pretend to be?" she pleaded, desperate for even a shred of the real Killian.

Perhaps, if she tried really hard, the lie would look less like a lie and more like the truth. If she pushed herself to the limits, the hallucination would become the person she wanted it to be. Because this, no matter how realistic, wasn't good enough for her.

It would never be good enough.

Only the real Killian would make her happy.

"I'm sorry, love," the fake Killian said as his body began to shatter into tiny bits of nothingness.

An hour had gone. Just like that. She hadn't even had a chance to strike a real conversation, or even make an attempt at one.

"I love you!" she said for even if he was just a fragment of her broken mind, she wanted him to know that.

She could swear she saw a ghost of a smile on those gorgeous lips of his before he faded into painful oblivion.

That alone was enough for a surge of emotions to overwhelm her and leave her a crumbled mess of tears and wails. Like an inconsolable child, she wept and wept until day turned to twilight, and twilight turned to night.

Under the peaceful moonlight she stared straight ahead into nothing in particular, her body numb, motionless. Will she stay that way forever, she wondered? Will she remain an empty shell of a person until the end of time?

Will anything ever fill that hole he'd left in her heart?

* * *

She stared at the small vial in her hand, at what had once been full of hope and dreams for all she'd lost, and was now almost empty.

One drop.

She'd only had one drop left.

One more hour, and _he_ would be gone forever, never to be seen or heard from again.

Even the thought of that made her eyes well up with tears.

Emma lightly shook the vial, observing the dark, sparkly liquid as it waved up and down like a tiny sea of magic.

Could she really do that? Could she say the final goodbye?

Was she strong enough for such a devastating move?

Last time it had been so sudden. It was her own life she had planned on taking, her life she'd wanted to sacrifice for the good of her loved ones. It was only after he'd spoken to her that she'd made the ultimate sacrifice.

Killing him, and destroying herself in the process.

Now she was to lose him all over again and it _hurt._ It fucking hurt, and the worst part of it was, there were no other options this time around. It wasn't either him or her anymore.

The potion she'd had had been the last of its kind. It was either using it all up now, or saving it for later.

Either way, she would have to say goodbye.

This time, however, she had time to prepare for the inevitable.

This time she had a choice.

"I was wondering what you'd been up to," a stern voice spoke up, startling her, shaking her out of her thoughts of misery.

Her eyes met with Regina's, expecting judgment and coldness the former Evil Queen had been known for. Death glares were one of her many menacing signatures.

Instead, what she found was compassion.

She wasn't sure what to think of this soft side of her former enemy turned friend. Sure, witnessed Regina's kindness before, but now? To be honest, she'd expected preaching and screaming and shouting and orders to stop what she'd been doing right this instant.

"Regina," Emma said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. How was she going to explain this?

Being a sorceress for so long, the Queen had surely known exactly what she'd had in her hand, and what she'd been using it for. She'd probably already had her suspicions after Emma's strange disappearances and even stranger excuses.

There was no use trying to deny the obvious.

"I can explain."

 _"What_ can you explain? What you're doing in the woods in the middle of the day, or why you're holding onto the Illusionary potion?" Regina raised a strict, curious eyebrow, her mere glance demanding an answer right here and now. Even clad in a formal business suit, she still looked as regal as ever. "You have to be a bit more specific."

"I needed to see _him_ again."

Tears slid down Emma's red, hot cheeks, and in a matter of seconds she'd become a wounded child with no one there to hold her hand and console her. The child she'd been her entire life until she'd found the family she'd always dreamed of.

Regina's already kind expression softened. Her look was more of that of a mother than a friend. She'd come to offer comfort, Emma realized. To assist a friend in need.

Her intentions were not of malice.

She'd genuinely wished to help.

"The Hook you've been seeing is not real," Regina told her matter-of-factly. There was no use sugarcoating it. The younger woman had already suffered enough.

"I _know_ that!" Emma snapped, all the pent up rage mixed with grief rushing to the surface in a surge of words she'd waited weeks to scream out loud.

Her fury desperately needed an outlet, a perfect target to slam into and crush. Regina was unfortunate enough to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Why does everyone keep saying it over and over again?!" she demanded, fed up with everything. Fed up with losses, and empty promises, and futures that would only ever be unreachable dreams.

Fed up with herself for being so weak.

Regina averted her eyes, not able to face her friend after such an outburst. It was only natural for her to lose it. Regina understood that all too well; she'd been there, herself. After Daniel had been viciously ripped from her, she'd been furious, boiling with rage.

Only she kept hers locked deep inside until it turned her into the thing she'd now grown to resent

Emma's way was better. At least she wasn't holding meaningless grudges, plotting to take over a realm, and murdering people left and right for the sake of pure pleasure.

"You don't understand," Emma said after taking a few deep, calming breaths. Her heart was still beating wildly, her hands shaking like mad, tears falling in a strong downpour. Still, at the very least she could breathe again. She could think, and she could speak, and she could try to explain her actions to the other woman.

"I do," Regina assured her.

Daniel's death flashed before her eyes, all the hurt and pain and anger and desire for vengeance back for a short moment. She remembered how she held him, how she lovingly wrapped her arms around him and cradled his lifeless body as if it were her most precious belonging.

Which he, now that she thought about it, kind of was.

She remembered breaking into her mother's most sacred vault and stealing a potion just like the one Emma held onto so desperately. One hour was enough, at first. Then it turned into two hours, then twelve, until she'd started downing enough liquid to make the hallucination last for a full day.

That false Daniel would listen to her worries. He'd cry and laugh with her, reminisce about all their good times. He'd tell her about little details she'd thought she'd forgotten, remind her of their kisses and laughs, of their little hiding places.

He'd comfort her in her worst of days, remind her how strong and powerful a woman she really was.

But none of those words were his own.

The hallucination had only told her what she'd wanted to hear.

Daniel's words would, perhaps, be similar to those the imaginary ghost had uttered, but they were not truly his. They were her mind trying to console her, telling her to be strong, to have faith in herself, to never let anyone, not even the king she'd been forced to marry, put her down.

All the words her conscious mind had never had the courage to tell her, the unconscious one was more than eager to.

Finally, Daniel had promised to never leave her side again.

Even though it was her words that were coming out of his mouth, she'd believed him.

She had to, lest she'd have broken like she did the first time he went away.

The final goodbye was the hardest. She'd never felt as guilty as she did the day she downed the very last vial. That was one of the few rare times she'd wished she hadn't banished her mother, for the cruel Queen of Hearts she was the only one who knew where to acquire the potion.

Rumplestiltskin, whom she'd asked later on, had said he'd heard of no such thing.

The lying fool.

"I will always be with you," Daniel told her just moments before he vanished, his hand that she'd wished with her entire being she could hold just one more time pointing to her heart. "Here. I may not be among the living, but I will always be alive in your heart."

"That's not enough for me!" she sobbed in absolute madness.

Before he'd had a chance to reply, he was gone.

"I've been there," Regina told Emma, trying her hardest to suppress her own tears. How had she expected to comfort her hurting friend when she, herself, was near a breakdown?

"Then you know why I have to do this," Emma said, eyeing Regina cautiously.

She wouldn't try to take what was left of the potion from her, would she? She would not be so cruel as to deny her the one last chance to see her beloved, to tell him how much she truly loved him for the hundredth time, and say the goodbye she'd been preparing herself for ever since she'd gotten her hands on that potion, before he disappeared for good.

Would she?

If Regina had been through this, she would surely have mercy.

"It's not healthy, Emma," Regina said, trying her best to come off as delicate and friendly as possible. She didn't want to cause unnecessary pain to the already troubled woman.

"Don't you think I know that?" Emma exclaimed. That was why didn't want anyone to know of her actions in the first place. Everyone was always so quick to point out her flaws, her faults, the unhealthy habits she'd been more than aware of.

Why couldn't they just let her be?

The rational part of her knew they were just worried about her. For the first time in her life, she was loved and cared for. She had friends and family who cared for her; she had a child, and she had magic, and she had a home to go back to.

An empty home, she thought bitterly. For the one person she was supposed to share it with wasn't there, and it was killing her to even think of all the promises he'd made, all the hopes and dreams he'd had, all the plans he'd put in motion to make them reality.

It was the house she'd held onto and wouldn't leave it for the world. Because it was theirs. He may not be here to share it with her, but she was still here to remember and dream even if he couldn't anymore.

"Then why are you doing this?" Regina inquired.

"Because I can't let him go!" Emma admitted for the first time to someone who wasn't herself, or an illusion representing the person she'd still held onto tightly. "We've had it all figured out, and now… Now I'm alone and I can't deal with that. I need him, Regina. Even if he's not real, he's still here, and that's good enough for me."

Only it wasn't. _Enough_ would be the real Killian Jones; the sexy, dashing pirate whose charm and wits and incredibly good looks had swept her off her feet.

The illusion was just a replacement that held her together so she wouldn't fall apart.

"By doing this, you're only hurting yourself more," Regina tried to reason. Her lips curled into an encouraging smile. "It's okay to grieve, but this is not the way. Do you think he would want you to do this to yourself?"

No, the blond thought, furiously shaking her head. He wouldn't. He would want her to live her life, to be happy, to find love again. He would want her to be the woman he'd fallen in love with; to use her strength to conquer the world and live her life to the fullest.

He would want her to be brave.

Regina was right, she realized. It was funny how, when you're at your worst, you need someone else to point out all the wrong you'd been doing to yourself.

She knew all along how bad an idea this was. She knew it would only hurt her more if she kept on with this practice.

The more she'd seen of Killian, the more of him she wanted. And she couldn't have that for he was gone, and the potion was almost gone, and that hurt more than anything. That feeling of powerlessness, a complete lack of control, all of it was eating her alive, driving her mad.

How was she supposed to say goodbye when she wasn't ready?

"What have I done?" she sobbed.

Regina was quick to wrap her arms around her, to hold and soothe her, to offer the love, albeit the friendly kind, that she'd craved.

"Nothing that cannot be fixed," the brunette said.

She eyed the small vial in the other woman's hands as they parted, her already teary eyes filling with even greater sadness. Just like her and Daniel, it was time for Emma to part with her loved one for good.

"Say your goodbye," she said kindly, offering one last friendly smile before disappearing into a whirlwind of purple, away from the tormented blonde.

Emma stood alone amidst a thick forest, clutching the vial for dear life, preparing for the inevitable that she wished would never have to come. Wiping away her tears, she gulped down the remnant of the potion, her thoughts wandering to Killian.

 _I'm sorry,_ her mind said, hoping he, the _real_ him, could hear her in the Underworld. Hoping he would understand that all she'd done was not out of malice, even if it was selfish. _I love you._

"Hello, darling."

She turned to face the illusion that had, for some reason, seemed more real and lifelike than ever, her sad eyes once again filling with tears.

This is it, she told herself, attempting to stay strong.

The very last time.

The final goodbye.


	4. Goodbye

_Goodbye_   
_There's just no sadder word to say_   
_And it's sad to walk away_   
_With just the memories_   
_~ Please Remember by LeAnn Rimes_

* * *

"Killian."

He'd sensed the desperation in her voice. The anguish. Pain almost powerful enough to wrap its ice cold arms around the entire world and leave it trapped in its eternal turmoil.

"It's been a while since we've last seen each other," Killian noticed, raising a pointed eyebrow at her grief-stricken face, his own expression blank, rid of all emotion. As if he was trying his hardest to stay strong for her, to not give her another reason to cry for her shoulders had already carried plenty of burden.

Emma gulped at his words, pain digging its dagger-sharp nails straight into her heart, tearing at it, ripping it apart. As if it wasn't broken enough as it was. Reality she'd wished she would never have to face again, for losing him once was more than she could handle, stung like a bitch, reminding her of all the things she could never have.

All the things she'd fooled herself into believing were possible.

"I wasn't ready," she admitted.

That very last drop of potion had been sacred to her. She'd been stalling, her thoughts a mess, her heart and mind and soul begging her to let it last, let it stay for as long as she could hold herself back from seeing him again for this time it really was the end.

And really, when is the right moment to let the person you lowered your walls for and let into your life with the promise of eternity go?

Perhaps if she'd hid the vial, all of this would not have been so hard.

She knew, though, it wouldn't be that easy. She'd ache for him, the desire to see him again, even for just one time she'd had left, stronger than her willpower. Hiding it would only make her lose more sleep than she'd already been losing since he'd gone away.

"Are you ready now?" Killian inquired, taking a slow, cautious step toward her.

She tensed at his closeness, her tears a misty cloud blurring her vision. The closer he got, the more the realization hit that she couldn't touch him, couldn't feel him in her arms even now in their last moment.

Even simply looking at him hurt more than she'd been willing to admit.

How do you let go of a ghost, she'd wondered? How do you say the sad, bitter word that is _goodbye_ when no one is ever ready to hear it, or say it, for in their case, goodbye truly was goodbye in every sense of that cursed word she'd grown to hate in the weeks following her loved one's unfortunate demise?

"No," Emma said honestly. There was no use lying to him; he knew all her feelings, all her thoughts, all her everything. He _was_ her. "I'm not."

Killian furrowed his brows, looking at her with genuine confusion. "Then how come I'm here, love?"

He damn well knew how, she told herself. Yet, she couldn't find it in her heart to blame the illusion for trying to look as real and honest as possible. She couldn't hold it against it for trying to replicate the man she'd wished were here instead of that empty fantasy that would, despite looking and acting like him, never actually be him?

If she hadn't known better, she would have genuinely thought this was the real Killian here with her, talking to her, crying and laughing with her, reminiscing of their best moments with such insane passion and devotion she'd never expected from an imagined lie.

Perhaps, if someone had forced the potion down her throat without her knowing a thing about it, and she'd gone into this with thoughts of this Killian being the real one, this entire thing would have played out differently.

Not necessarily for the better, for the real goodbye would hurt millions of times worse than the one she was preparing for now.

"I wanted to see you," Emma said simply, pulling up her fakest of smiles, one she'd used around her friends and family members to make them believe everything was right with her. The smile that hid her true pain, a wall she'd put up again to protect herself from inevitable pity other people's glances had been radiating with whenever they would meet hers.

Killian raised a curious eyebrow, flashing her a smile of his own. Oh, how she'd wished it was real; that _her_ Killian had been giving her that smile that would always be followed by a passionate kiss and a few loving words.

"Is that so?"

"Why?" Emma couldn't help asking. She nervously glanced around. How much more time had they had left? Would it be enough for her to say all she'd wanted to say? "Do you not want to see me?"

"I always want to see you, love," he told her softly. That look of joy on his face had faded in seconds, leaving a dark, sullen look Emma had dreaded ever since she downed the very last remnant of the potion.

Instinctively, Emma brought her walls up again, preparing for the worst. She would not break again, like she did the first time she had to say the dreaded farewell. She would not crumble in someone else's arms and curl herself into a fetal position once she returned home. She would not lie motionless for days, clutching the ring he'd given her as a sign of hope, a promise of love only the two of them could understand.

She would not allow herself to become that person again.

One time had hurt more than enough.

"This is about something else, isn't it?" Killian asked, eyeing her with suspicion in those eyes she'd used to drown in; eyes that were now looking sharply into her own, gazing straight into her shattered soul.

He knew, she told herself. He knew and still, he wanted her to say it, wanted those painful words to come out of her mouth. Because _she_ had been the one to conjure him with hopes of the illusion becoming real.

Well, she thought bitterly, she'd gotten her much desired reality.

Instead of replying, Emma reached for him, a small glimmer of hope shining within her like a sun surrounded by clouds of darkness. Even if her hand passed right through his and emptiness that she'd tried to bury deep within resurfaced as realization hit once again, there was still a part of her that wished and hoped and dreamed that she could feel him just one more time.

Much to her surprise, her finger brushed against his own, his skin as warm and real as her own.

Gasping, she looked up, back into those beautiful eyes of his, only to see him staring at her just as intently, as startled by the situation as she was.

"How?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The potion had only made him come alive in a metaphysical sense; a fragment of her imagination; a daydream living outside her head for a short hour.

"I don't know," Killian replied honestly.

Deciding not to waste another precious moment for she didn't know how long this would last, Emma wildly threw herself into his arms, enveloping him in the tightest of hugs. She felt his own arms wrap around her almost instantly, holding her close as if he'd never intended to let her take another step away from him.

They stood like that for a short moment that had seemed like months, clutched tightly in each other's arms. A tragic love story that had, for some reason neither of them had will to question, come alive.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, Emma clung to the illusion as if it were real, as if her beloved Killian had truly come back from the dead to part with her the way they'd both deserved.

Only, she realized, it was real. False, but still, at least partly and for a short period of time, real.

He'd returned to her, she thought, letting those tears fall as her grip around his leather-clad body tightened. He was here, and he was hers again.

Hers to touch.

Hers to hold.

Hers to love.

Safe in her armor-tight embrace, never to be let go of.

Or at least until the very final hour expires and she is, once again, left all alone.

However, Emma had to admit she could not have asked for a better goodbye. Was this one of the potion's hidden perks? Does the very last drop make the hallucination come alive?

Had Gold neglected to mention that to surprise her as a way to make up for all the shit he did back in his days of evil? Or had he said nothing because he had truly not known?

Whatever it was, Emma didn't give a damn. She only cared about savoring this moment for the short amount of time she'd had left.

"This is not possible," she still whispered softly, still in disbelief.

"Don't question it," Killian said. His words were tender, filled with devotion and love she'd craved now more than ever. "Just give into the moment."

Yes. Give into it. Cherish it. Thank the heavens for allowing it to happen.

"We–" she tried, only to be cut off.

"I know."

"This–"

"I know," Killian insisted. He was aware of how little time they'd had left just as she was.

Mustering up the remnant of her strength, Emma forced herself to part from him for only an inch. Their eyes met, both pairs teary and sad, neither willing to give into the upcoming farewell.

First he was an enemy.

Then a companion nobody wanted around.

Then a good friend she'd found herself inexplicably drawn to.

And then, as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, a secret crush.

Finally, their complicated, sexual tension-filled relationship had progressed to love she'd sacrificed everything for.

"We can't pretend forever," Emma said, the words stabbing into her heart like the sharpest of daggers.

Reality hit, and it hit hard enough for her to start to tremble, barely keeping her balance. Had it not been for his arms still flung around her waist, she would have fallen.

 _Don't say it,_ her mind begged. Even thinking of words that were to come out of her mouth hurt as much as that night had. The night she'd forced that sword through his chest and helplessly watched as he collapsed and slowly died in her arms, unable to do anything to help.

Unable to, at the very least, make him hurt less and allow him to go in peace.

"Emma…"

"This is goodbye, Killian," she stammered, on the verge of a breakdown. "I love you."

Carefully, she brought her lips to his, locking them in a tender kiss. For a moment the entire world had gone silent; the wind had stopped blowing just as all the animals quieted down as if following a silent command. The planet stood still, with Killian and Emma in its center as its rulers, its masters, royalty to be obeyed at all costs.

Everything else had stopped existing, leaving only them, their love, the painful goodbye they'd both intended to drag for as long as they could.

Her hand moved up to the short silk of his hair, feeling it for the very last time. Its softness was heaven underneath her fingertips, all their banters and cuddles flashing in her mind, memories of times like these, when her hands would go through his hair and ruffle it, and he would laugh and jokingly do the same to her before offering an apology in the form of a sweet kiss.

The illusion, she realized as Killian deepened the sensation, pulling her closer as his own hand rubbed soft, comforting circles on her back, even kissed the same way he did. Passionate and rough, but still gentle; the taste divine and heavenly just as _he_ had been.

Sweet enough to make her crave for more.

The more that she would never get.

Cursing herself for wishing for something that would never be, Emma's lips slowly parted from his, though their foreheads remained linked, leaned against one another.

"I will never forget all the things we did," she told him. "What we had is forever."

And she dove for an another kiss, this one gentler, lighter. He would be gone anytime now. She didn't want to waste a second.

The only thing she could do, as tears silently fell down her cheeks in wild streams, was pray that her thoughts could reach him, the _real_ him, through the thick walls of the Underworld. Pray that he could hear her words and feel her love, for hope was all she'd had left.

Hope and, she realized as a small smile crept onto her trembling lips still connected with the illusion's, determination.

She will find him, she decided. She will have him in her arms again, where he belongs. She will kiss him, and hug him, and hold his hand just as she had with the illusion of him she'd conjured. They will build that future they'd dreamed of together.

Just the two of them against the world that had torn them apart in the cruelest of ways.

True love always finds a way. And theirs was true, the truest of them all, and nothing, not even death or the walls surrounding the Underworld, can get in the way of that.

Because it was _real._

And because it was _them._

"I will find you," Emma promised the slowly dissipating figure, the form that had started to lose it lively color and fade into nothingness that was the darkest corner of her mind. "The _real_ you."

With one last charming smile promising hope, he was gone.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Emma fell to her knees, sobbing and weeping like a lost, ruined soul that had lost its essence. She was nothing but a shell, empty without him, lost in a world where love was something to be earned instead of given.

And she had earned hers.

She'd had a purpose now, a mission to open the gates of hell and return the one she lost, the one she'd just said goodbye to, back to her arms, safe and sound.

Still, it hurt no less to see him go, just like last time.

They say magic has its rules. She was willing to break every single one of them, she thought darkly. She was willing to make every deal imaginable, and pay all the prices she could just to make her dream of being with Killian again a reality.

Because that's what her family does.

They never stop fighting for what they believe in.

And they always find each other.

* * *

While Emma was busy wallowing in pain, Regina had made a quick stop by Gold's shop and had gotten an ancient, only-to-be-used-once spell he had somehow forgotten to mention to the grieving Savior when she'd paid him that visit.

Even as a pure-hearted hero, Gold had remained a manipulative bastard.

Regina hadn't kept her eyes off Emma, observing her with pain of her own. The blonde had deserved a good ending. After everything she'd done for the ones she loved; after all the sacrifices she'd made and all the promises she kept, she deserved a little bit of good in her life.

Perhaps this wasn't the happy ending she'd wished for, but it was a decent replacement, a goodbye as close to a real one as possible.

Regina didn't even have _that_ with her Daniel illusion, and it hurt much more than she'd been willing to admit. No one had to go through that. Especially not Emma.

What kind of a friend would she be if she didn't ease Emma's pain, even for only as short as an hour?

It was the least the Savior deserved after doing what was necessary, even though it went against everything she stood for and believed in.

Regina admired that. She might not have agreed with the blonde's actions, but she respected her love, her passion, her devotion to her one true love.

And she'd repaid her the only way she knew how – by giving her what she'd so desperately craved for, the one thing her heart desired ever since that sword pierced Captain Guyliner's abdomen and sucked the last light of life out of him.

Had the situation been reversed, had she been the Dark One with her beloved in peril, Regina would have done the same. She would have made the ultimate sacrifice for Robin's sake just as Emma had for Killian's, as much as the process, the consequences, and the unavoidable guilt destroyed her sanity and pain and grief consumed her whole.

Regina knew that Emma would do everything in her power to bring back her loved one. The real him, that asshole Regina loved to hate, and had grown to accept as part of her little bunch she'd as of recently started calling family. So, to motivate her, she gave her a little something, a taste of what was sure to come soon.

A false goodbye worth a thousand of truths.

"You're welcome, Emma."


End file.
